Running like crazy

I'm a fairly keen, if somewhat lazy, athlete. I have participated in fun runs, 10km runs, half marathons, marathons, ultra marathons, duathlons, aquathlons, and triathlons. I've even participated in a "vertical challenge", which was a race up 45 flights of stairs. I hope to do a half-iron man in the next few months and a friend recently suggested that we go for a full Iron Man in 2017 - I'm keen! I've been running on and off since I was in primary school. I have run thousands of kilometres. In my travels I have tried to run - I have run in Germany, North Ireland, England, Thailand, China, Philippines, Indonesia, the USA ,and Singapore. I think its fair to say that I love running.



Singapore is a great place to run. There are no vicious or rabid dogs that chase you with intent to rip you limb from bloody limb (Thailand), no crazy taxi drivers trying to mow you down on the pavement (Philippines), no glass on the road to slice your feet open (Thailand, South Africa) - a real problem if you're a bare foot runner like me, no rough tarmac (Indonesia, South Africa). Singapore has parks and park connectors to run in, special paths on the pavements where only the most crazed drivers could vaguely be a threat. Singapore also has a lot of runners.

There are two things about Singapore's runners that make them different to other runners that I have seen in the world. The first, is that they never greet each other. I find this really disturbing. Runners are, after all, a special breed. We forsake the warmth, safety and comfort of our beds to pound the pavements. It stands to reason therefore, that we would acknowledge one another on the roads with a nod, a wave or even a gasped "morning!" After 3 years of running in Singapore I gave up greeting fellow runners because lets face it, there is nothing more insulting than greeting the proverbial brother (or sister) in arms only to be met with an astonished look and stony silence.

The second unique and vaguely disturbing thing that most Singapore runners do, is that when they come to a traffic light (and there are many in Singapore - it is, after all, a great big city) they feel the need to either run on the spot, jump up and down, or run in tight circles on the pavement, as if they've contracted a rare form of mad cow disease. As soon as the light changes in their favour, they're on their merry way again. Very strange indeed. When I run, unless its some kind of race, when I get to an obstruction, like a red traffic light that cannot safely be crossed, I stop running. I normally do so with a sense of relief. If my running time is important to me, I'll pause my running watch. I see an enforced stop as something to be embraced. In fact, sometimes when I'm running I'll be hoping that the next traffic light forces me to stop - then I'll have a valid reason to take a break. I find that when I take a break in the middle of a run, my legs and lungs are the better for it and I carry on with my run feeing slightly refreshed.

This reminds me of a bad movie I saw once called "Crank" starring Jason Statham - some bad guys injected him with something that would slow his heart down to a point where he would die, so he spent the whole movie doing ridiculous things in order to keep his heart beating fast. Actually now that I think about it, it was a Chinese drug that produced this effect ... hmmmm... there are many Chinese in Singapore. Maybe there is more to this than meets the eye!

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Trains (part 3) Of Trains and Toilets

Having missed my train (read about it here in part 2) I quickly made my way to one of the ticket booths. To my great relief, the lady working there was able to speak a smattering of English. I told her my tale of woe

Trains (part 2) What was I thinking?

This is the second part of some of my crazy experiences with trains in China.

What Was I Thinking?

I was staying in Shanghai and had to make a trip to meet some people in Hangzhou, about 170km south of Shanghai. The journey takes about an hour in a high-speed train. Being the seasoned traveller and well-adjusted digital immigrant that I am, I had purchased my tickets on the internet weeks in advance. There was no way I was going to mess this up. The day before my trip, I meticulously planned my route from my hotel to the Shanghai Hongqiao Railway Station, giving myself plenty of time to get there. My train departure time was 8:36a.m. - a small warning bell should have gone off in my head when I saw that departure time. Why 8:36? Why not 8:30 or 8:45, even 8:35, but 8:36? Anyway, I got to the station at around 8a.m.

The first surprise of the day was the size of the station. I am not exaggerating when I say that I have flown on international flights out of airports smaller than the Shanghai Hongqiao Railway Station.

Covering an area of 1.3 million square metres, and with 16 platforms, it is the largest railway station in Asia. Undaunted, I found my departure gate and since I had plenty of time, set off to find some breakfast. Having travelled on trains in Asia before, I wasn’t too concerned about time. In Thailand for instance, departure times are printed on tickets merely to give one an approximate indication of the day on which the train will be leaving. Being such a seasoned traveller and confident in my experience of Asian train timetables, I took my time and enjoyed my breakfast at a leisurely pace. Afterwards, I even stopped on the way to my gate to buy some gum and pick up a bottle of water, which is given free to all ticket holders - I thought that was rather a nice touch. I arrived at the gate to the platform from which my train was departing at 8:30a.m, but then I noticed that there was an “A” gate and a “B” gate, at opposite sides of the concourse. I was at the B gate. I quickly looked at my ticket and in the midst of a lot of Chinese characters I saw an “A”, but a little further down, I also saw a “B”. I wasn’t sure if I needed to be at A or B, so I walked about 100 metres across to A and asked one of the passengers queuing there. Fortunately, he spoke English and informed me that my ticket was for B.

I should briefly explain at this juncture, that this station, unlike any other I have ever been in, is built above the actual railway lines. The gate is a solid high-tech sliding door which leads through to an escalator, which descends down to the platform. One is unable to see any trains in the concourse area and the first glimpse you get of a train is when you get to the bottom of the escalator.

Anyway, it was now 8:32a.m. as I quickly made my way back across the concourse to gate B and joined the long queue there. I wasn’t at all surprised when by 8:34a.m. the gate still hadn’t opened. By 8:36a.m. I was feeling smugly justified in my assessment of Asian train time-tables. Then my eye fell on a small sign in English just outside the sliding door of the gate that read, “no entrance to platform permitted after 5 minutes before train departure”.

Huh!? I saw the words, but something was not computing. I read it again. There was no mistaking what it said and yet, here I was in a queue at 8:37a.m. with hundreds of other travellers waiting for the 8:36a.m. train.

Or...
were...
we?

With growing trepidation, I read the sign again and then in a moment of startling clarity, noticed, for the first time, that the tickets in the hands of my fellow passengers were a different colour to the ticket clutched in my, now suddenly sweaty, hand. I quickly looked at the ticket belonging to the chap next to me and saw that his ticket was for the 8:55a.m. train. I felt the blood draining from my head as I realised that my train was gone already and these fellow passengers whom I was happily queuing with were actually not fellow passengers, but travellers getting ready to depart on the next train... because everybody knows that train schedules in China run like clockwork and that the gates to the platforms open about 15 minutes before the trains depart and close exactly 5 minutes before departure...don’t they?

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Trains (part 1) Need for Speed

In May I had the privilege of travelling to China. Apart from some amazing cross-cultural experiences, I also had some interesting train-related experiences which I will blog about in two or three parts.

The Need for Speed

My travel schedule included a few days in Shanghai, so I turned to Google for some information and travel tips. There I discovered that Shanghai has the world’s first commercial magnetic levitation train that travels from the Pudong International Airport into town. Its called the Maglev. Its not the most creative name, I’ll admit, but I’m sure it has a more exciting Chinese name. The Maglev is a marvel of science and engineering. It has no wheels, axels or bearings, instead it has a bunch of magnets which lift, suspend, steer and propel it - very quickly. It was completed in 2004 at a cost of $1.2 billion. Naturally, I put it on my “to do” list.

So it came about that with eager anticipation I collected my luggage and followed the overhead signs to the Maglev train station after I landed in Shanghai. With mounting excitement, I purchased my ticket and took up a strategic position right in front of the platform gate and waited. After a short while, the gate opened, and in true Chinese fashion, everybody pushed and shoved past me. By the time I had made it onto the train and stowed my baggage, all the seats facing forwards had been taken. Unfazed, I took a seat that was facing backwards and waited for the adventure to begin. There was a twinge of apprehension as I wondered if my fillings would all fly out of my mouth like BB pellets and stick to the floor when the magnetic field was turned on. It turned out that my fears were groundless, and with all my fillings and other metal bits still firmly in place, we moved out of the station with a silent woosh. I watched the speedometer above the door as within seconds we passed the 100km/h mark, then 150, 200, 250, 300, 350, 400. Just when I thought we had reached top speed, it inched upward to 415, 420, 425 and held steady at 430km/h, easily setting a new land-speed record for me.

Now it must be said that I am all for speed, and that’s why I took this train. But, to be honest, it is somewhat disconcerting to hurtle backwards at 430km/h. As I flashed backwards above the Shanghai traffic at 430km/h some doubts flashed through my mind. Let’s face it. We have all at some time or another purchased some cheap “made in China” electronic marvel that either has not worked from the outset, or has died the second time we’ve used it. We have also all heard some of the horror stories about lack of quality control and corners cut on Chinese construction projects. I wondered what would happen if a few magnets were to fall off the Maglev and get sucked into the transwarp inductor, causing the flux capacitor to explode and the train to be launched off the track at 430km/h, like some North Korean test missile. I briefly pondered if there would be any remains to identify should the unthinkable happen.

At that moment, unseen by me because I was facing backwards, another Maglev train approached from the front and passed our train on my side of the carriage with the noise of ... well, a train travelling at 400km/h. Two walls of air being pushed by two fast trains collided with a combined speed of more than 800km/h, making a lot of sudden and unexpected noise and causing the train to jolt quite violently. Whilst I’m sure, with the benefit of hindsight, that there was plenty of room between the two trains, it felt to me in that instant that the other train was mere millimetres away from my left elbow which was resting on the window. I instinctively jerked my arm away and I guess my normally cool, calm and collected demeanour gave way temporarily to an expression of sheer unbridled terror, because the gentleman sitting opposite me, who had seen the other train coming, was unable to prevent himself from grinning broadly. I was not amused.

My heart rate had just about returned to normal when we glided to a silent stop, the 30km journey having taken a mere 7 minutes. You’ve got to hand it to the Chinese, for all the cheap junk that comes out of their country, they sure know how to build a fast train.

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Striving for excellence or just OTT?

Singapore is a great place and there is much to love about it. It is clean, organised, safe and generally well-run. One of the things I have struggled with in Singapore, however, is the obsession with academic excellence prevalent in all the schools. Don’t get me wrong! I think it is important that children are taught well and encouraged to succeed, but here in Singapore, I think they have taken that a bit too far. Let me give you two examples, both involving our youngest daughter.

In 2012 she was 5 years old and in her first year of kindergarten. What are 5 year old kids supposed to do at kindergarten? Play, draw, make stuff, play, colour in, paint, play, eat play-dough, play...right? That’s what I thought, until we received her mid-year “report card”. The teacher’s comment, “Nina must strive harder!” Seriously? A 5 year old in kindergarten must strive harder? To do what? Colour in better, eat more play-dough, or play harder/better/faster?

She’s now 6 and in Primary 1. What are 6 year olds supposed to do in Primary 1? Play, draw and colour in (better than they did in kindergarten), learn to read and write and learn the basics of mathematics. Well, a few weeks ago Trish received a phone call from Nina (using her brother’s phone). The reason for the call...not that she was sick, hurt or otherwise needed her mother’s help. No, she was phoning to ask her mom to pray for her because she was nervous about her class spelling test. A 6 year old nervous about a test in Primary 1? You’ve got to be kidding me! 6 year olds are not supposed to be feeling nervous, stressed or anxious about tests in Primary 1 (and it's not like Nina is a stressed child - in fact, of all her siblings, she’s the most laid back).

I think it's a rather sad indictment on a society when children, who should spend the bulk of their time playing, not doing homework, and whose biggest concern should be how many presents they can expect for their birthday, are asking for prayer because they’re stressed about school work.

The only ray of hope in this story is that our 6 year old, in her hour of need (in Primary 1!) has the wherewithal to turn to God for help.

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Lost in Translation

Having spent a number of years in Thailand, learning the culture and grappling with the language, I really empathise with people who have to communicate in a language other than their own. I am deeply grateful for my Thai friends who patiently smiled and nodded, and gently corrected me, as I massacred their language over the years. There were a number of embarrassing moments when I said things that came out wrong, or that just didn’t make any sense at all. These were all very frustrating at the time, but one thing that helped me to keep things in perspective, and to see the funny side of language study, was when I came across some equally horrendous English translations.

I once got involved in an online debate about the effectiveness of Google Translate. I argued that it was only of value if one was able to speak a moderate amount of Thai or English and that it could never be used to converse with people in Thai if you were English, or in English if you were Thai. The reason is that it provides a direct translation of a sentence word for word and is not (yet) capable of translating an entire concept captured in a sentence. This is patently clear from the examples below of menus that were clearly translated using something like Google Translate - broken up into its component parts, each of these translations are correct, but as you will see, the overall result is less than satisfactory.

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Development

I’m in Lampang at the moment. A largish town in North Thailand, about 100km south of Chiang Mai. We moved here from Chiang Mai in 2008 and I must admit, at that time, it was quite a shock to the system. You see, Lampang was rather, shall we say, ... rural. It has the unique, if somewhat dubious, distinction of being the only town in Thailand that still uses horse-drawn carriages. Well, the tourists use them anyway. The reason it was a shock to the system is because the entire town, with a population of approximately 160 000 people, had but one large supermarket, which stocked very basic goods. I had business in Chiang Mai about once a month and I would use that opportunity to stock up on “luxury” goods, such as chocolate that was made from milk, not wax, baking ingredients such as vanilla extract, jelly beans, and from time to time, clothing. On the rare occasion that the whole family went, we would splash out and go to a restaurant that served Western food (the closest thing that Lampang had in that department was a Pizza Company, which was more Thai than Western). Going to Chiang Mai always made me feel like a country bumpkin going to the city for the first time. I used to walk around with my eyes bulging and mouth hanging open at what the “big city” had to offer. If time allowed, I would go for a really big treat — an English movie at the cinema! And it was always with a sense of relief that I would retreat to the quiet country backwaters of Lampang after a hectic few hours of retail therapy in Chiang Mai.

But that has all changed! In the 2 years since we left, Lampang has shaken off its sleepy hollow image and has become a retail mecca to be reckoned with. There is a new, ultra modern, 3-story mall, complete with Starbucks, high-end clothing stores, numerous restaurants and even a 5-theatre state-of-the-art cinema, with English movies. But thats not all, in addition to the high-end mall, other large shopping centres have sprung up. A Macro, a large warehouse hardware store (my favourite kind of shop) and a few others. Lampang has rushed headlong into the 21st century at a dizzying speed, and in the process has lost something of the charm that it had before.

Now, far be it from me to deny the denizens of Lampang the pleasure of first-world shopping experiences and Starbucks coffee, but as far as I can see, there are no new corporations, factories or office buildings in Lampang. So I cannot help but wonder where these simple, country people have suddenly got the money from to spend at these high-end malls and shopping centres. I’m sure the marketers have done their research, but I sure do hope that the malls, the clothing stores, the restaurants and the coffee shops are sustainable in the long run, and I hope that hard-earned savings aren’t being frittered away, drawn by the lure of materialistic hedonism. And I hope that credit cards aren’t being maxed out in pursuit of worldly delights.

Sadly however, I suspect they are.

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Beginning of a new year

The Roman poet, Virgil, once wrote

fugit irreparabile tempus

which when translated from the ancient Latin vernacular means, "time flees irretrievably”. More commonly, we tend to say “time flies”. I guess its a shared experience between those of us who are older than 35 to be alarmed at the speed with which each new year comes by. In my experience, the extent of that alarm is directly proportional to one’s age. By the time I’m 60, I’m going to have take Valium with my breakfast come January 1. Now don’t get me wrong! I’m not old, nor do I feel old, but time does seem to be speeding up the older I get.

There are a few interesting theories that try to explain that effect. One is telescopy - this is simply the underestimation of time. Just as things look close when viewed through a telescope, so past events are seen as having occurred more recently than they actually did. Then there is the reminiscence effect - when we’re young, we’re doing new things for the first time, but as we age, we fall into routines (ruts sometimes) and what used to be new and exciting becomes mundane. I would have thought that would make time drag, but according to scientists, regular events tend to pass by in a blur because they are not emotionally charged. The third theory has to do with the ageing of the suprachiasmatic nucleus, or the brain’s biological clock - this has something to do with circadian rhythms and the ends of one’s DNA strands fraying like shoelaces...?

Anyway, it would appear that the perceived speeding up of time as we age is a scientific fact, not merely a sneaky feeling. And here we are, having sped, at a dizzy speed, through the first month of yet another year. I have a feeling though, that this year is going to be a significant one (not that previous ones were insignificant). Its just that this year will see me turning 47. It will see the wife of my youth turning 46, 44, er...45ish. It will see our 12th year in Asia (our 3rd in Singapore). Most significantly, it will see our return to South Africa in December.

This is significant because when we left SA 12 years ago, I thought that I would go back in order to retire. Happily, or maybe unhappily, I will not be going back to retire. Instead, I will be going back to start a new chapter in my life. A new work with OMF, done in a new way, in a new era. I am very excited about going back although I do expect things have changed a lot in the past 12 years. I know I have changed in terms of my thinking and expectations. My personal circumstances have also changed in that I will be going back with 3 children, having left 12 years ago with none. When we left for Thailand in 2003, we had to learn a new culture and a new language. We had to learn to live in a different country. The same when we moved to Singapore. I suspect, apart from having to learn the language, our move back to SA is going to require a similar learning curve to the one we went through when we moved to Asia.

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Bureaucracy

Bureaucracy sucks wherever you may find it, but when faced with a sea of bureaucrats in a country and language other than one's own, its that much harder to maintain one's sense of humour. I recently faced that here in Thailand.

I purchased a new motor vehicle in Chiang Mai towards the end of April. Part of the deal was that the dealership would, at no extra cost, register the vehicle in my name- i.e. no red tape to deal with. I provided the dealership with all the documents they needed and they told me it would take a week or two to have the vehicle registered in my name. In the meantime, I was given a temporary red number plate (paay deang) to use. One week after purchasing the vehicle I moved to Lampang, a town 100km south of Chiang Mai. Biiiig mistake!

After I had moved to Lampang, I was told, via the car dealership that the authorities in Chiang Mai wanted proof of residence and that I should go to the Immigration Office in Chiang Mai to apply for the necessary document providing proof of residence. So I made the journey, only to find out that the Immigration Office had stopped issuing these documents months ago. I was told to contact my embassy in Bangkok. Fortunately, I had business to attend to in Bangkok, so I picked up the necessary document (which was full of typo's!). Another trip to Chiang Mai, to the vehicle dealer to provide proof of residence. When the vehicle registration authorities in Chiang Mai saw that I was resident in Lampang, they informed me that I had to register the vehicle in Lampang. So I had to make another trip to Chiang Mai to collect all the registration documents from the dealer. It was now up to me to register the vehicle myself in Lampang. It took me 3 days to find the relevant authorities in Lampang, and when I submitted the documents to them, they informed me that one of the pages (in a bundle about 10 pages thick!) needed to be stamped by the Chiang Mai office. So back to Chiang Mai to have a jolly rubber stamp put on a page.

Finally! All the documents stamped and signed and ready to go, I went to the Lampang vehicle registration authorities. After standing in 3 queues I was rudely told that my vehicle needed to be inspected first and that I was to join the queue of vehicles. This queue went halfway around the building, so I gave it a miss and went home. This happened twice more and finally, the 4th time I go, I decide to brave the queue, which is about 10 cars long (at 8am!). 2 hours later my brand new vehicle is "inspected". I am given an extra wad of papers and told to report to counter 4. Counter 4 signs and stamps some of my papers and sends me to counter 11. Counter 11 peruses my documents for 10 minutes and sends me back to counter 4. Counter 4 doesn't know why I'm back, but I refuse to leave until they clarify with counter 11 what the problem us. Counter 4 phones counter 11 and tells them off. Back to counter 11 I go. They take half an hour to process my forms. They take my money and I start to see a light at the end of the tunnel - or maybe its just the train! Counter 11 sends me to counter 15. After an hour-long wait at counter 15, I finally get my new registration plates. Yippee ! I'm outa there, but no! wait! Gotta go back to counter 11 to get the blue registration book. After another 1 hour wait I finally get my blue registration book and this time I really am outa there before they find some other problem.

Mission accomplished. Final score = Total distance traveled in getting all the necessary documents to register my new car that I paid cash for - 1900km. Total time taken from date of purchase to date of registration -3 months. Total mileage on new vehicle before its finally registered - 8000km. Now you can't beat that for an exercise in bureaucratic inefficiency and patience stretching!











Before and After

Rice Planting

July is the beginning of the rainy season in Thailand. That also means that its time to plant rice. Everybody clubs together to help with the planting and its an interesting time in rural Thailand as all available hands head out to the rice paddies. Suddenly finding a builder or a handyman, or even a mechanic, becomes impossible and little odd-jobs are put on the back burner for a while.

The whole process starts with seed beds that have been prepared in advance. These are harvested and the rice seedlings are bundled.

(The ladies in this picture are harvesting and bundling rice seedlings to be replanted in prepared paddies).



At the same time, paddies that have been lying fallow are prepared by pumping water into them. Thailand literally has thousands of water canals (called khlongs) which are used for this purpose.

(Water being pumped out of a khlong into a paddy - note in the background the 2 dry paddies)


After the water in the paddies has made the soil soft and mushy, its time to dig it up, or plow it. For this they have a fancy contraption that looks like a generator on 2 big wheels.

This is what they used in the good old days and will probably revert to if fuel prices keep going up!











Once the paddies have been plowed, they are ready to be planted. Now the back breaking task begins as rows of people stand shin-deep in water, bent double, as they plant the rice seedlings. (Aaagh! It hurts my back just looking at them!)
In a few months time the rice crop will be ready for the harvest.

Our July Newsletter

KHAO PANSAA (BUDDHIST LENT)

We went to Trish’s favourite noodle shop for lunch – where they
throw in boiled pig intestines for no extra charge! There was a
festive atmosphere, and a friendly guy offered Nick a whiskey.
Nick declined, but his new friend was insistent, explaining that
“Khao Pansaa” is about to start, and during the 3 months of
Buddhist lent, drinking is forbidden, so drink as much as you can
today. In fact, he told us, he was drinking enough today for the
next three months. Later he admitted that he probably wouldn’t
last 3 months without a drink!

The rains have started in earnest and we are in the time of the
Buddhist Lent ("rain retreat"). Its an auspicious time for
Buddhists: it marks a period of spiritual renewal for them. It is a
time devoted to study and meditation. The monks usually stay in
the temple grounds, a tradition which dates back to years gone
by when it was necessary to prevent them from trampling on
newly planted rice paddies when they ventured out to receive
offerings from the villagers.

Thai people are usually actively engaged in merit-making during
this period. They bring offerings of food to the monks, but it’s
the offerings that provide light, like candles, which are
considered to be particularly important. It is believed that these
offerings provide monks with illumination physically and
spiritually.

Not insignificantly, within the next couple of weeks we will be
opening our outreach centre, The Lighthouse, right in the centre
of Lampang.

ARM AND OTHER FRIENDS

His name is “Arm”, he hardly has any teeth – those that he does
have are black stumps. He is five years old, but looks as if he’s
only two. His mother is very poor and the gardener in our
housing development. Arm has adopted us. For the first few
weeks that we lived here, he’d stare at us and follow us around
on his bicycle… and race away the minute we’d try to initiate any
contact with him. Now, he comes into our home, eats our food,
drinks our cooldrinks, plays with our toys, watches our TV, and …
listens to Bible stories, learns to sing “Jesus loves me” and hears
Trish read stories about how good God is. Naturally we have to
translate for him, and even so he probably only understands a
tiny bit of what we’re sharing, but, seeds are being planted in his
life.

On Saturdays, we have Kids’ Club in our home – Carrot, Champ, Satang (Thai word for a 1 c coin), Stamp (see photo), Rainbow and others are coming faithfully despite the focus on Jesus. While its fun and games, again, seeds are being planted each week. Its rainy season and we have a powerful God, so we’re optimistic!!!

Thai Drivers

I love Thailand - its a great country and Thai people are very nice people - I guess that's why I'm a missionary here! There are some Thai ways however, that irritate me beyond belief. One of those are the driving habits of the average Thai.

• they generally are in no rush to drive anywhere fast. Average speed that I find myself driving behind most Thai folk - 35km/h.
• solid lines - purely for show. When those who do go faster than 35km/h overtake their less speedy compatriots, they do so anywhere, at anytime. Oncoming traffic? Who cares - they can move onto the shoulder of the road!
• Traffic lights - purely for show and late night entertainment in the quieter towns. Motorcyclists especially, treat traffic lights, red ones that is, with total disdain. In fact, I almost took a motorcyclist out on my way home this afternoon as I went speeding through a green light and she went speeding through a red one.
• sometimes, especially at bigger, busier intersections where traffic police are always lurking, motorcyclists do stop and give rise to my biggest and most severe irritation - motorcyclists who squeeze in front of me whilst I am waiting for a traffic light to change, then proceed to take off dead slowly and speed up to 35km/h whilst my car's bumper hovers a dangerous 10 cm or so behind their back wheel (many is the time that I have been oh sooo tempted to give them a little nudge to help them along their way).

Some other pet irritations in the traffic;

• people on cell phones - their speed then comes down to 25km/h and they weave erratically across the road.
• slow moving traffic in the fast lane of major highways - there are even signs up telling people to keep the outside lane open for faster moving traffic - these are steadfastly ignored!
• big trucks that pull out into the fast lane in order to overtake slower moving traffic without so much as a glance, a warning, or any indication at all. Most times this happens, I am the only fast moving vehicle in the outside lane and if the the trucker and waited 5 seconds, he would have the whole road to himself and I would not have reduced the lifespan of my brakes and tires as much as I had in trying to avoid a collision.
• People who do not give you a gap to get into the flow of slow moving traffic, leaving you stranded and unable to "go with the flow".
• Traffic lights out of order and there is no order as it becomes a free for all to see who can get across. No taking of turns here - you just go - he with the biggest car and nerves of steel wins!
  

Driving in Thailand is an experience that has got to be seen and experienced to be believed. It gives a whole new meaning to the term "defensive driving" and those who think that mini bus taxi drivers in Johannesburg are bad..., ain't seen nothing yet.

Our June Newsletter

SNOOKER AND SHOPPING

The shopping done, loaded into the car, butter melting on the back seat, Nick wondered whether he should go straight home or pop into the hardware store first. There was a job that needed doing at the house – and had been for some time – and he needed supplies. He quickly weighed up the consequences of the melted butter versus the job being delayed yet again, and decided to head to the hardware store. Waiting at the cashier’s desk whilst she was struggling to get the purchases scanned, Nick started chatting to the cashier’s assistant/chief bag packer, whose name is Snooker (yes, as in the game played on a baize covered table and pronounced “Sanuk cur” in Thailish). After exchanging pleasantries, Snooker asked for Nick’s business card. Nick – being a nice guy – gave it to him, and sweetened the deal by giving him a tract too.

Imagine our delight when about an hour later we got a call from Snooker. He is keen – he wants to know more about Jesus because he is dissatisfied with life! We have since met with Snooker again and have given him a booklet about what Christians believe. We hope to meet with him on a regular basis, perhaps over lunch or a cup of coffee, perhaps even with a friend if his or a colleague, and talk more about this awesome God that we serve.

HOME ALONE

Nick was in Singapore and would be gone for a week. Trish was home alone – if you can call being left with three children “alone”. She was feeling a bit down, a bit discouraged, a bit lonely, even a bit nervous. We are still so new in this town – what would she do if there was an emergency? Who would help her?

Then there was a voice calling downstairs. Phii Nok had brought some supper for Trish and the kids. She stayed and chatted for a while. Then, as she was leaving, Khun Yaay brought little First to play.

Soon six other neighbourhood kids and their parents were in our garden having a whale of a time – running races, riding bikes, playing basketball, while Trish fed them savoury pies and chocolate cookies. Next morning none other than the vice-governor of the province (who lives 2 houses down) and his wife arrived to whisk the kids off to their home where they duly entertained and fed them for the morning – while the Bekker blessings destroyed their otherwise pristine house, Trish enjoyed a welcome break.

Home alone - maybe, but certainly with a God who supplies all our needs!

Bangkok Taxi Drivers

If there's one thing I detest with a passion, its being ripped off. It's bad enough when you find out after the event that you were ripped, but its even worse when the rip-off is so blatant that you can see it happening right before your eyes. Most of the worst and most blatant rip-offs and attempted rip-offs, that have been perpetrated on me, have been by Bangkok taxi drivers. These fellows are in a league of their own. I admit that it is unfair to tar them all with the same brush, there are, no doubt, some really upstanding guys out there, but on the whole, they are a fairly scaly bunch. Let me relate my two latest experiences;

I arrived at Bangkok international airport this morning and caught a taxi into town. The taxi driver tried to get me to agree to a fixed fee of 300 Baht. I politely declined and insisted that he turn on the meter. Fortunately, he did not push the issue and I arrived at my destination with the meter sitting on 205 Baht. This was clearly an attempted rip-off and I don't know why he even tried - was it because I am a foreigner? Would he have tried the same trick on a Thai man?

My business in town finished, I needed to catch a taxi to our head office, which has a guest house attached to it. This is about a 25km drive and the average taxi fare is maximum 230 Baht. It was 7 pm and the first two taxi's that I got into refused to take me (as I understand the law, a taxi which is on duty is compelled to take the customer wherever they want to go within the city of Bangkok). So, not a rip-off per se, but a flagrant violation of the law and a major source of irritation to me, a tired guy who wants to go home. Once again, I ask myself, "Would these guys have refused a Thai man who got into their taxis?" Anyway, the 3rd taxi I find is willing to take me, but he refuses to turn on the meter and because I'm getting fairly desperate to get home and am not in the mood to try to find another taxi, we agree on a fare of 300 Baht. Rip-off right there! If his meter was on, it wouldn't come to more that 230 and I still have to fork out 75 Baht in tolls.

Now, its clear to me right from the outset, that this fellow has no idea where I want him to take me. He keeps mentioning places that I have not heard of and I keep telling him which highway to take and which off-ramp and near which temple my destination is. I give him street names, but he still has no clue. I tell him not to worry, that I know exactly where it is and will direct him as we go. So we're going along the freeway on our way home when he decides that he wants to take the next off-ramp, which is one before mine. I ask him to please keep going, that my offramp is the next one and it is literally 3 minutes away at his current speed. He refuses, takes the wrong off-ramp and starts ranting and raving about how I told him that this was where I wanted to go. I tell him that he has just squandered his fare and that he must stop so that I can get out. At this stage the situation escalates to a loud screaming match. He refuses to stop, but says that he's going back to where he picked me up from (20 kms back). He is so irate that he tries to drive up the wrong way on another freeway off-ramp. I'm in the back, threatening to call the police because he's ripping me off and I'm telling him that he's not doing his karma any good. Eventually, still speaking in very raised voices, we agree that he would take me to the old Bangkok airport, which was further than he would have had to go had he just carried on on the freeway as I had asked him.

As I reflected on this whole ugly incident afterwards, I realised that I had handled it very badly and had not been a very good witness. Then again, what do you do when an irate taxi driver accuses you of lying about where you wanted to go and refuses to drop you off, but instead insists on going back to where you started from, thus wasting more than an hour of your time and money paid in toll fees? What really irks me is that the whole situation arose from his greed and intention to rip me off in the first place. He stung me for 300 Baht and when he realised that he had to take me further than he originally understood, it was no longer such a bargain for him. If, on the other hand, he had had his meter on, he wouldn't have worried. In fact, the further he had to take me, the longer the meter would have run and the more money he would have earned.

So what lessons do I take away from this? Don't trust taxi drivers? Give very detailed instructions with names and numbers of offramps and streets and suburbs? Use only those taxi's that are prepared to turn on their meters, even if it means taking a bit longer to find a guy honest enough to do it? I don't know. I just know that right now I'm feeling a little jaded, but I'm sure I'll be alright in the morning:-)

Our May 2008 Newsletter

How do you get to know a town and meet people? On foot, with a cute little baby of course. In order to really get to know Lampang town (see photo of Wat Phra Trat LampangLuang), we ditched the Isuzu and walked. We used the municipal market as our starting point and walked down the streets, going from shop to shop, introducing ourselves, telling people what we do, why we’re in Lampang, and handing out tracts.

“So, where are you from?” asked one friendly shopkeeper.
“South Africa,” we replied.
“Mmmm, where’s that?”
“The southern most part of Africa”
“Oh, is it a region?”
”Well, no, it’s a country”
“And what city are you from in this South Africa country?”
“Johannesburg”
“Johannesburg!!!! I’ve been there. I was there 3 years ago on an 8-day tour!” Then, much excitement as we talked about what a wonderful holiday destination South Africa is.

So far we’ve learned a couple of valuable lessons:

1. Nina is a great conversation starter and eases any initial tensions, but after two minutes she becomes a liability (she gets bored easily on the hip, but tends to destroy displays in shops when let loose).
2. Its going to take a lot longer than we thought to survey this town. The folk in Lampang are really friendly and keen to talk, so in about one hour, we only did one block … there are many blocks to go!
3. There is a big Catholic school in Lampang and many people think that we are associated with them - and don’t understand why we are not… others have been in contact with the Mormons and think they already know what we’re all about.

PHI NOK’S BIRTHDAY

Phi Nok’s restaurant is closed this Wednesday. It’s her birthday and she is going to “tham bun” (have a merit making ceremony) at the restaurant because it is an auspicious day for her. She usually does this at the temple, but this year she’s decided to do it at the restaurant, hoping that it’ll bring her lots of luck and make the restaurant more prosperous. She admits that it’s the first time she is doing it at the restaurant, but really, she should have a merit making ceremony there at least once a year. On the 4^th some monks will come to the restaurant at 10h30 (we’ve been invited to join in) as Phi Nok goes through with the ceremony.

Phi Nok tries to be a good Buddhist, but she knows that she cannot even keep the 5 basic Buddhist precepts – she kills flies almost every day - so actually, she is without hope. We shared with her about the hope that we have in Christ and that only he can remove our bad karma.

The Joy of Golf

I love playing golf - unfortunately, my love for the game is not borne out by my ability to play it. I tend to duff a lot of shots, but my attitude is "what the hack!" It's a great game and its always a joy to get out there with a couple of other guys who share the love of the game.

Golf is a very old game. Apparently during the time of Caesar, the Romans played a game similar to golf, where they hit a feather-filled leather pouch with tree branches. Golf as we know it, however, was being played by the Scots by the 15th century. Because it is such an old game, it has a certain je ne sais quoi that could be construed by newcomers to the game as snobbish. There is, for instance, a very strict dress code. Not too long ago, I dared to arrive at the course wearing shorts. This was not the problem - the starter had a problem with the colour of my short beige coloured socks (which I had bought in the golfing section of a large sports shop) - they were not white enough for him! Fortunately an expensive visit to the pro-shop sorted out that problem. I once heard of a fellow who was not allowed onto the course because he wasn't wearing a belt (it would, after all, be unbecoming for a gentleman to end up with his trousers around his ankles after teeing off). Apparently, this fellow merely took the strap off his golf bag, tied it around his waist and was allowed to play without any further objections, even though he must have looked rather strange.

Golf also has a lot of rules and codes, many of which are unspoken. I have on occasion played with fellows who insist that those playing with him and waiting to tee off, stand in a certain place whilst he is teeing off - and one should never presume to stand behind a chap who is teeing off. I guess its just too undignified to have someone stare at your butt whilst you're addressing your ball. Once our golfing party consisted of 5 guys. It was a quiet Tuesday morning, so we asked the starter if we could form a 5-ball as we didn't really want to split our group. The starter was an elderly gentleman who, judging by the expression on his face, had never been asked such a preposterous thing in his entire life. I daresay, he would have responded more favourably had we asked to see naked pictures of his wife!

Now playing golf in Thailand is an all together different story. In fact, I am sure that the royal and ancient founders of this great game roll in their graves any time the words "golf" and "Thailand" are used in the same sentence. This is all due to the Thai's delightful way of taking something foreign and adapting it to suit their own unique tastes and styles. Take the dress code for example: I have played with fellows who wear denim jeans every time they play. Just recently, I played with a guy who clearly had no dress sense - he wore shorts with long black socks! That would have given any self-respecting starter a fit of apoplexy. But not in Thailand. Nobody even batted an eye. Generally, use of a caddy is optional. In Thailand you have no choice. No caddy, no play. Oh yes! all the caddies are women. They wrap a towel over their head and around their faces to protect them from the sun ...and no doubt, to hide their smirks when hackers like myself play silly shots. They also tend to wear woollen gloves to protect their hands from burning in the sun. (In the status conscience Thai culture, a sun-tanned skin is a sign of low status).

Then the most remarkable thing about golfing in this great country, is that they are a sociable bunch of folk. They would hate to break up a group of friends who want to spend an enjoyable morning or afternoon together. So I have often ended up behind a 5 or a 6 ball.
I took this photo just last week.

No, it is not an optical illusion, nor is it a green keeper's convention on the benefits of Bentgrass over Bemuda grass. Yes, that is 12 people you see on the green. This can be quite frustrating if you're playing a quick round by yourself or just a 2 ball - heck even a 4 ball gets seriously held up by a 6!! But in Thailand, no one is ever in a rush, so it just means that you have more time to chat to your mates as you wait in the 40 degree Celsius heat to play your next shot! (To be fair, some of the more popular courses in bigger towns are less likely to allow anything more than a 4 ball - but not where I live).

The Thai also aren't interested in handicaps. You wanna play golf? you play golf! You hit that ball till it drops in the cup. There is no picking up your ball when you're 2 or 3 shots over. I personally have rung up horrendous 10's and 12's on par 4's. Now imagine being stuck behind a 6 ball of average to poor players who are each taking between 5 to 10 shots to sink their ball. To take 6 hours or more for 18 holes is not unheard of.

All these things are not negatives. They are just a different way of doing things and it doesn't detract from the joy of the game. Just this morning I went out and played 9 holes with my 4yr old son, Jonty. It was a special time as the two of us raced around in a golf cart, did donuts on the fairways and went off-road, our caddy (a transvestite and a first for me in terms of strange and unusual caddies) clinging on to the back of the cart for dear life. Jonty had his little kiddies 9 iron and hit a few shots. I hit a few shots, but it wasn't about the decorum, or the rules, or the score. It was about two guys having fun together, bonding and creating memories. Isn't that what all sport should be about?

Our April 2008 News

HOW TO FIND A HOUSE IN LAMPANG

We’d never met Ajarn Kai before, but Phii Yaa - who is an old friend - put us in touch with her. Ajarn Kai (see photo, with Nina) is a schoolteacher in Lampang. She’d heard that we have three children, so she arrived with gifts for them and a huge smile on her face. Then she introduced us to a family who had a house to rent in her neighbourhood. We’d seen plenty of houses at this stage and were prepared for yet another disappointment – the others were all too small, too expensive, too rundown, etc., but this time, prayers from across the world were answered, and we found the perfect home for our family.

There were a few tense hours when the owners had to decide whether they wanted to rent this perfect home to our imperfect family, but in the end they decided they’d take a risk and let us rent it. They did, however, ask for a three month deposit which we think is one month for each child!!!! Wise people.

Ajarn Kai - a total stranger to us - has helped us in an enormous way, and has become our first friend in Lampang. We have already told her that we'll be hosting a team from South Africa later this year and there will be an opportunity to do a special programme at her school.

“LOUD” in LAMPANG

A few days ago Nick went to try and sort out our telephone, taking Emily with him. Work at the telephone company office came to a complete standstill while everyone fawned over them. When we saw our landlady the next day, she said that she’d been at the telephone company earlier and they were still talking about Emily! The Thai expression she used to say that we are “well known” is literally translated as “loud”.
After three years in a fairly tourist-orientated Chiang Mai, with a high proportion of missionaries, then 7 months back in South Africa, we’d gotten used to being ordinary, “normal” people. Now we’re are having to get used to being stared at, having strangers offer our kids ice-creams, being pointed at, being discussed openly, and being treated as important guests of honour. Lampang folk are not used to foreigners – those who do visit here stick to the horse & carriage rides in the main street and spend their money at one of the many many ceramic factories. So yes, we – especially our three darlings - are loud in Lampang!

Our March 2008 Newsletter

THE MISSION FIELD COMES TO US

Plettenberg Bay. Beautiful sunset, distant mountain peaks kissed by the setting sun, the sound of waves crashing a few hundred metres away, wide sweeping beaches, and the supper table laden with jasmine rice, Thai curry, beef in oyster sauce, sweet and sour prawns and fried rice. Sitting round the table about to tuck in: Nick and Trish (of course), but also Yaa, Aneck, Noi, Jupe and Jeaw. Who????? Five Thai Buddhist friends of ours who visited us in South Africa for a couple of weeks in February. (See photo taken at Robberg)

What a great opportunity to gently witness to our friends as we spent 2 weeks in a holiday home together. One morning Aneck watched the Jesus DVD with Jonty and had several questions which Nick and Jonty were able to answer. But it was also fairly hard work as we had Thai culture and language thrust upon us 24/7 and played tour guide to our culture-shocked friends.

God has an unusual way of answering prayers. As a result of the hospitality we showed them, when we return to Thailand, these Buddhist friends of ours will be collecting us from the airport, organising interim accommodation and a car for us, and helping us find a house in Lampang, the new town we’re moving to. We feel very blessed.

HAPPY HOME ASSIGNMENT

The sun was beating down on my head and shoulders. My mouth was dry, my heart pounding and my legs leaden as sweat stung my eyes. What had started as a niggling twinge in my Achilles tendons had turned into a screaming pain that could no longer be ignored – and I still had 11 kms to go! But I did it: after 5 hours and 44 minutes on the road, I completed the Two Oceans 56km ultra marathon in Cape Town and received a bronze medal for my efforts. This was just one of many highlights of our 7 months in South Africa.

Trish caught up on scrapbooking, she attended courses, lost 6kg, went on a walking tour of Tuscany, and still managed to keep the family going. We also did a marriage course which has been very enriching.

The kids have had the best time of all. Jonty has attended a wonderful nursery school, Emily has enjoyed Moms and Tots and Clamber Club, and Nina tripled in age. She arrived as a three-month old baby and is now walking (well…only 2 steps at a time, but its walking!).

It wasn’t all sunshine and roses, but its been a great opportunity to catch up with some of our friends and family all over the country, and to enjoy the South African lifestyle. We are feeling refreshed (as refreshed as one can be with three small children), restored and ready to head back to Thailand.

Bekkers' July Newsletter

THE BIG EXAM

It sounded as if the voice was coming from underwater. I strained to hear what was being said. Was it even Thai? I could feel the sweat breaking out on my face and my palms getting wet as I felt the panic rising. Four agonising minutes later, the Thai language examiner reached across the desk and switched off the recording. I glanced down at the few illegible words I had scrawled on my notepad and my heart sank. My level 3 language exam had gotten off to a wobbly start! But as the recording played through for the second time, and I was able to keep my panic in check, I realised that it was indeed Thai and I was actually hearing and understanding whole sentences, not just a word here and there. This time when the language examiner switched off the recording my page was full of notes, some of which I could even read and I was able tell her, in some detail, what I had heard.

The next 4 hours were spent listening, reading and speaking Thai – the final verdict: a pass! The following day, after 2 hours of written examination, my level 3 exam was finally over. Although we will always be language students in this country, this marks the end 4 years of formal Thai language study for me and closes one chapter in my life as a career missionary.

THE BIG MOVE

A 1940 model Hino truck pulled up outside the house in a cloud of black smoke and with a loud grinding of gears. The back of the truck looked and smelt as if it had last been used to convey pigs to the market. The rain started pouring. Four Thai guys clambered out of the truck and hoisted a grease-stained tarpaulin over the back and then stood back in horror as they surveyed the pile of furniture and boxes awaiting transportation to the storage house. These foreigners must be crazy!

• “Have you seen the thingymajing that goes on top of the whatchamacallit?” Nick called from upstairs. “I think its been packed in box number 7,” replied Trish.

• “Mommy, my bed’s gone, where am I going to sleep?”
  

• “I’m putting this shirt of yours in the ‘junk’ pile,” declared Trish. “What! Are you crazy? That’s my favourite shirt!” “But you haven’t worn it in 4 years!”

• “Emily, for the 100^th time, stop taking your toys out of that box that we’ve already packed!”

• “No, your train tracks CANNOT go to South Africa with us – there’s no room!”

• “Aaargh! We’ve run out of @#$%* tape again!”

• “Nick, I’m sure that guy carrying our computer is drunk!” “No, he’s just hung-over.”

Fortunately the Thai workers didn’t understand us anyway. We’d been planning our move for a long time, but it still ended in a mad, stressful and frenzied rush in the last two days. And now its all over – the last box is taped shut and the final piece of furniture in storage (pic below).

“So Nick: when are you going to do your preparation for the RUC camp, the missions weekend, Bruce’s wedding, and for your last Thai sermon?”

Nick: “Ummm… tomorrow…?”

Water

Thailand is a country with a lot of water. It has many rivers and dams, a 3200 km coastline and an annual rainfall average of around 200cm (up to 380cm in the south and as low as 140cm in the drier northeast). Water is very important to Thai life, religion and culture. Two of the Thai's most famous religious festivals involve water - Loy Krathong in November, where ornamental floats are released on rivers and dams in reverence of the river gods and Songkraan in April, where sacred statues are ritually washed and the country enjoys the mother of all water fights for 3 days solid (as seen in the pic above).

In days gone by, before tarmac roads and the mass production of motorcars, rivers and canals were the only mode of transport. They were the main arteries along which commerce and hence, development, took place. Not for nothing, Bangkok was known as the "Venice of the East". A remnant of this is to be seen in the famous "floating market" outside Bangkok, a favourite stop for tourists to Thailand. Sadly, many of the canals in Bangkok have been filled in to make room for wider roads and pavements.

Water is also essential to the production of rice, of which Thailand is the world's largest producer.

With all this water, one would think that there is plenty to drink too. Not true. Drinking water in Thailand has to be bought in bottles. In large cities, such as Bangkok, municipal water is piped to homes. In most of the rest of the country, however, there is no municipal water and most folk use borehole water. The water-table is generally very high, so borehole water does not come from deep wells. The result, brown, brackish water that is not fit for consumption.

We use borehole water in our home. We have a large tank in the garden, into which the water is pumped (a float system keeps the tank at a certain level). When we turn on a tap in the house, the water gets pumped from the tank, through a large sand and charcoal filter and into the house. This water is used for all our household purposes, other than drinking.

(This photo shows the stainless steel tank on the left, the long, blue filter on the right and the borehole and house pumps in the foreground on the right - Emily in the middle)

For our drinking water we rely on "Uncle Taa". He is our local water-man, who delivers water to our door in large plastic 20 liter bottles. A bottle like this costs 15 Baht (R 3.47 or US$ 0.50). This is municipal water that has been filtered (well, we trust that it has been filtered:-)